Our December
by galacticAcolyte
Summary: Six bands, five couples, two nights, one concert. Short, five chapter holiday fluff involving MCR, Para, LP, Versa, Ev and Flyleaf. When the six bands agree to play a holiday festival together, what unlikely friendships  and more  will form?
1. Prologue

**Merry December, y'all!**

**Consider this my short n' sweet holiday effort of the year-this is just the prologue, sorry if it's a bit dry xP the fluff will start in the first actual chapter, I swear.**

**Enjoy!**

"Gerard, you look ridiculous," Frank giggled, tapping the white cotton ball at the end of his Santa hat lightly.

"This, coming from an elf," Gerard shot back. "And I like my hat, thank you very much."

My Chemical Romance had been the first band of six to arrive at the indoor California

arena where the Jingle Ball, rock music's biggest holiday festival, was hosted annually. They'd quickly discovered a closet full of festive costumes and props outside of their dressing room and in their boredom had raided it while waiting for the other bands to arrive. Frank had donned a striped smock and elf ears, Ray a pair of reindeer antlers, Mikey had been forced into a weird red-and-green-striped horn-type thing that they had decided belonged to a narwhal and Gerard wore the puffy white beard and red-and-white hat of Santa Claus himself. They had been debating whether to wear the outfits onstage—Frank, Ray and Gerard were all for it, but Mikey claimed that the horn made him feel positively ridiculous.

"I dunno, Mikey, that horn does make you look pretty adorable," Ray teased.

"Oh, shut it." Mikey grinned anyhow and pulled off the headpiece. "Who else do you think is coming?"

"You're just trying to change the topic," Frank pouted.

"So what if I am?" answered Mikey, smirking childishly. "But really, I do wonder. I think the tradition of keeping the bands playing secret until the night before the show is kind of stupid, anyway…"

"D'you think Blink might be playing? They had a pretty big year, what with _Neighborhoods_ just getting released and all…" mused Frank.

"I think they're getting the Black Veil Brides to come, too," Gerard said.

"I heard that Green Day flew out this morning," Ray offered, to which all four boys cheered. They'd managed to maintain a pretty close friendship with the trio of punk rockers after they had opened for them in 2005.

"That would make my fucking year," Gerard said happily. "And God knows this band needs something good to happen to it soon."

At this, Mikey and Frank sighed heavily. The year, although fantastic musically, had been full of ups and downs—mostly downs—in the Jersey quartet's personal lives. Mikey and Alicia's frequent fights had become more and more constant and had become so bad that they'd ceased talking to each other three days before their trip out west. Frank, meanwhile, had confessed to Jamia that he was bisexual, freaking her out so badly that he wasn't sure if they were even still together. And as for Gerard and Lyn-z, they just…weren't Gerard and Lyn-z anymore. His wife's near-constant touring meant that he hadn't talked to her in over six months, and the rumors that he'd been hearing about her from the internet and news were not pretty.

Ray wasn't sure what to do with his three best friends. His life was still normal and consistent—in fact, Krista and he were expecting their first child soon—but he was forced to watch as the most important people in his world fell apart, bit by bit. It hadn't been a great year for any of them. He had been the one to contact the radio station that ran the Jingle Ball every year, hoping to cheer them up with the Christmas event. It could be like old times again—just the four of them, more like a family than anything they had on their own.

Loud voices outside the hallway startled the boys from their thinking, and the door to their dressing room banged open. They were met with a diminutive brown-haired girl in a white dress who grinned at the men perkily.

"I found My Chem!" she called down the hallway, sticking her head out of the room. Running footsteps were heard before four guys appeared behind her. They looked out of breath, but were smiling all the same.

"Whoa, epic," one of them breathed. "I love you guys!"

"Are you fans?" Frank asked, confused. The brunette girl looked strangely familiar from somewhere, but he couldn't figure out where exactly.

She giggled. "No, we're Flyleaf, one of the other bands playing tomorrow."

"Oh, that's where I know you from!" the guitarist grinned, happy the mystery had been resolved. "Lacey Mosley, right?"

She nodded. "And this is Jared, James, Sameer and Pat." Each boy responded with a wave or a 'hey' when she said their name.

"Ray, Mikey, Gerard, and I'm Frank," he responded.

"Oh, I think everyone knows who you guys are," Jared cut in, smirking. "You'd have to live under a rock not to."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Gerard chuckled, and the gathered musicians burst into laughter.

"So who else is here?" Lacey asked once the laughs had subsided.

"Just us so far," Ray answered. "Do you know about anyone else?"

"We've been trying not to find out, actually," she answered. "It's more fun to keep it a surprise, don't you think? Although there are a couple bands I'm hoping do show up…"

"They always get a pretty good lineup together for this, though," James commented.

"Let's hope," said Gerard. "I wonder—"

But before the world-famous singer could say exactly what it was that he wondered, the dressing room door swung open again, revealing a trio of people who couldn't be a day over twenty. They stood in the doorway awkwardly as if they weren't sure whether to enter or not.

"Hey!" Frank called out jovially. "Are you playing the Jingle Ball too?"

"Yeah," one of the boys responded. He had short black hair and a shy smile.

"What's your band name?" Lacey questioned.

"We're VersaEmerge," the small girl in front told them.

"Oh, of course! _Fixed __at __Zero_, right?" Ray verified. The members of VersaEmerge's faces lit up like Christmas trees at the realization that someone knew their album.

"That's us," the boy confirmed. "We're Blake, Sierra and Nick."

The rest of the people congregated in the room introduced themselves too, and the three new arrivals stepped inside shyly, taking seats on the floor.

"We know about one other band that's coming," Sierra told them when asked the question they had just been discussing. "I was talking to my friend Ha—"

"Shh, don't tell us!" Lacey grinned. "I want it to be a surprise."

"Speak for yourself, Lacey," Mikey grumbled.

A loud ringtone filled the room, and Sierra whipped out her phone, checking the screen. "Well, they're here now, so I guess you'll find out soon enough…" Her comment appeased the bassist and he was quiet again.

"Si-ERR-a! Where are you?" A singsong voice rang through the hallway outside the door. To many of the people in the room, it was instantly recognizable—not surprisingly, as this particular girl's voice was world famous.

"I'm in HERE, Hayyy-leyyy!" Sierra called out, laughing. "Come say hello to the other bands!"

At that moment, a red-headed girl skipped through the doorway and embraced her friend tightly, waving to everyone else in the room from behind Sierra's back. She smiled as she saw looks of recognition in everybody's eyes.

"Hayley, where'd you go?" a male voice shouted, followed by a different one yelling, "Thanks for deserting us!"

Hayley Williams rolled her eyes. "Sierra, could you be a dear and go get the other two bozos? I don't know what they were doing in that van a minute ago…"

"'Course," Sierra laughed, and exited the room. Hayley grinned at the other eleven musicians. "Hi, I'm Hayley from Paramore, and Taylor and Jeremy apparently managed to get lost but they should be here soon enough…"

"Found them!" Sierra called out, followed by a squeal and the sound of running footsteps. The young girl darted back into the room just as a dark-haired boy caught her around the waist. "Not so fast," he exclaimed.

"Let _go, _Taylor!" Sierra protested, but her struggle was far too weak to be plausible.

"Nah, I think I'll hold on to you," Taylor teased. Jeremy, tall and sandy-haired, entered behind him, smirking at his two younger friends and forming a heart with his hands over their heads. Sierra swatted it away and stuck her tongue out at the older man.

"So we've got, let me see…VersaEmerge, obviously, My Chemical Romance and…Flyleaf?" Jeremy asked the others. At the mention of their band name, various members nodded their assent. "Sweet," the bassist continued. He joined Hayley on a couch, but Taylor didn't relinquish his hold on Sierra's waist and remained standing.

Their conversation resumed where it had left off, most of them not able to stand the suspense of waiting for much longer. More big names in rock music were thrown into the mix, confusing everyone, but they all agreed that of the last two bands to arrive, at least one of them had to be Blink-182, Green Day or All Time Low.

"I feel like I'm missing someone else that put out an album this year…" Frank muttered, tapping his chin pensively. "Something with a female lead?"

"Evanescence?" Gerard suggested, unable to stop himself. At this, the rest of the members of his band cracked up.

"What's so bad about Evanescence?" Lacey asked, confused. "We toured with them, they're a pretty good band!"

"There's nothing _wrong _with them," Ray chuckled. "It's just that Gerard had the hugest crush on Amy Lee from 2003 to what, 2005?"

"Then, when we met her backstage at an awards show—he clams up. Completely. Not a word!" added Mikey mirthfully.

"He was worse than any fangirl!" concluded Frank.

Meanwhile, Gerard's cheeks had steadily been turning a deeper shade of pink as he slouched deeper into the couch. He pulled the Santa hat over his face and muttered something that sounded like "shut up shut up shut up."

"It's _tru-ue,_" Frank cackled, poking his best friend mercilessly.

"What would you do if she _did _show up, Gerard?" James asked.

At this, the singer's face turned completely red. He shoved his head into Frank's chest, complaining, "This is all your fault, Frankie." This just made the laughter in the already loud room increase tenfold.

Outside in the hallway, six men followed the sound of happiness to the dressing room, where a sign read 'Jingle Ball Preparation—BANDS MEET HERE.'

"Looks like the right place," Brad Delson said, glancing at Rob Bourdon for confirmation. The brunette drummer nodded his agreement and Mike Shinoda pushed open the door, startling the people inside.

"Hey!" Chester Bennington, the first one through the doorway, called out to the crowd at large. Gerard yelled something that sounded like "who is it?" into his friend's hoodie.

Chester gave the musician a strange look. "Gerard, dude, is that you? It's Chester…"

"Oh, good," Gerard muttered, and removed his head from its' hiding place. "Good to see ya again, man."

"You too," the rock singer saluted. "Frank, Ray, Mikey—whatsup?" He nodded at the others as Mike came to stand beside him, the rest of their band trailing. The emcee waved at Frank, who smiled and waved back.

Phoenix wiggled his fingers at Sierra, Blake and Nick, who were sitting stock-still with their mouths nearly hanging open. Blake got his jaw to work first, managing to spit out "L-Li-Linkin Park?"

"That's us," the redheaded bassist confirmed.

"No…" the boy started.

"…way," Sierra breathed.

"Yes, Way—two of them, actually," Ray called out. Mikey mimed a rim shot.

"That's so…" Sierra shook her head, seemingly lost for words. "You're…but…"

"A bit starstruck, are we?" Chester raised an eyebrow suggestively, and the members of the youngest band giggled, finally breaking out of their silence.

"Just a bit," Blake agreed. "It's just that you guys are…well, you're Linkin Park."

"We get that a lot," Brad commented, puffing out his chest a bit. Mike punched him teasingly and he feigned hurt.

Lacey smirked at Chester appreciatively. "They're not the only ones starstruck, you know."

"Oh, another fan?" the brunette smiled back at her. "And what band are you from?"

"Flyleaf?" the way the girl stated her answer, it came out sounding more like a question.

Chester grinned. "I didn't know you were a fan, Lacey."

The look on Lacey's face was akin to that of a child on Christmas morning realizing she had gotten exactly what she wanted. It was all she could do to stop from turning to Jared and squealing, "He knows me! He knows me!"

The Linkin Parkers quickly confirmed the identity of the other three bands, quickly settling into conversation. Mike went to sit next to Frank on the couch, who was a close friend of his from the tour, which unfortunately left Mikey squished into the side of the piece of furniture.

"Thanks a lot," the blond bassist grumbled. He got up quickly, dropping next to Hayley on the carpet. "Glad to know I'm loved, you guys."

"Ooh, someone's grouchy today," Hayley giggled.

"Just ignore him, he probably didn't have his coffee," Gerard advised the girl, winking.

"Oh, shut up, Gee," the bassist growled, playfully slapping his brother's arm. Gerard slapped back, causing a mini-catfight to break out between the famous siblings. Gerard's Santa hat became dislodged from his head and his beard hung askew.

The two were so involved in their play fighting that they didn't notice the door swing open for the sixth and final time that night. The person who stood in the doorway stopped to survey the scene for a moment before asking the room, "Do I even want to know what's going on?"

Gerard's blood froze at the voice. He became completely still, pausing in an odd position with both hands raised to protect himself from his brother.

It couldn't be _her_. Please, God, any other time when he looked at least halfway decent…but not _her_, not now…

Amy Lee looked at the man with a confused expression. "Are you at least beating him up for a good reason?"

For the umpteenth time that night, everyone burst into laughter at Gerard's mortified expression. The situation was only made funnier by the knowledge of his secret crush. Amy smiled brightly, very confused but amused at the same time.

"I—well—" Gerard stuttered. He finally settled for a sheepish smile, grinning up at the gothic singer innocently.

"Never mind, I probably don't want to know," she amended. She walked up to the furiously blushing man and reached down, fixing the angle of his hat so it sat straight on his midnight-black hair again. "Better," she decided.

"I—I'm Ger-Gerard Way…hi?" he forced out.

"I know who you are," she laughed. "I love Three Cheers, Helena is one of my all-time favorite songs. I'm Amy Lee." She offered him her hand. Gerard took it like it was a time bomb and shook it very carefully, unable to prevent a cheesy, blissful grin from overtaking his handsome features. _She__'__s__even__more__fucking__gorgeous__in__real__life,_he thought to himself.

Amy took her time greeting everyone else in the room, explaining that the guys in her band had been held up at an interview but would be there soon. She had been questioned first and decided to show up straight away—she couldn't contain her curiosity as to who she would be playing with.

"Awesome turnout," she said appreciatively. "You guys are all such amazing musicians…how are we ever going to compete with this?"

"Good thing there's only one stage," Chester joked. "Otherwise we'd be screwed." Lacey nodded her assent to his comment.

"Well, some of us are going to have to share," Sierra piped up. Everyone swiveled to look at her, shocked.

"What?" she shrugged. "I heard some of the people running it talking about how they want some of us to duet when I came in. They're letting us pick who, I think…"

Eyes flashed around the room, some excited, some annoyed. Gerard shot a hopeful look at Amy, who was sizing up Mike thoughtfully.

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow," Hayley said finally. "That's when they're telling us everything and we get to practice, right?"

"That's what the schedule says," Brad affirmed.

"Well, now what do we do?" the redhead asked.

"Hang out?" Mikey suggested.

And that's what they did, until nearly one o'clock in the morning. The dressing room turned out to be full of amusing objects…so amusing, in fact, that it almost seemed like they had been placed there on purpose. It was Sierra and Taylor who discovered the karaoke machine in the closet, and Mike and Frank who managed to hook it up to the television. The night ended in everyone doing terrible renditions of each others' songs—alright, not everyone's were terrible…

"_Bring __meeeeeeeeee __to __liiiiiiiiiiiiiiife_!" Chester screeched, out of tune on purpose, while Lacey growled. "_Wake __me __up!_" angrily. Amy covered her ears in fake disgust, turning away from the highly amused pair. When they were done mutilating Evanescence's biggest hit, the pair cracked up, slapping each other high fives and embracing casually.

"Thanks a lot," the girl grumbled. "Beware of retaliation…Gerard, help me?"

"What?" Gerard perked up at the mention of his name, even more when he realized who had said it.

Amy picked up the remote and settled on a song, highlighting its' name and clicking it. "I'll show you how it feels," she muttered as the first strains of Waiting for the End poured through the room.

"Heads up!" she called, throwing one microphone to Gerard. "Do Chester's part, please..."

"Are you sure you can rap?" Gerard asked disbelievingly.

"Just do what—_yeah!_" Amy hardly had time to hit the first note—"what I say! _Uh_!"

She really was terrible at this style of music, he thought as she spit out _this__is__not__the__end,__this__is__not__the__beginning,_but she was still gorgeous…and best of all, she put one hundred percent of her dedication into the song.

"Your turn!" Amy called out, turning to him as soon as her segment was done. "Go for it!"

_Oh __great, _he thought even as he sang, his voice wavering. It cracked on the word _end,_and again on _stand_. Chester's register was a bit lower than his, but it was still enough to make him sound horrible and not at all like a professional singer.

"Sing it an octave higher!" Amy suggested at the break in between the two parts of the chorus. And, like a crazy person, he did what she suggested.

"_Flying __at __the __speed __of __light, __thoughts __were __spinning __in __my __head_" came out in a ridiculous falsetto voice that Gerard had no idea he was even capable of doing. Amy burst out laughing, choking out "that's amazing, keep going!"

So he did.

"_It__'__s __hard __to __let __you __go-ooooo,_" he exaggerated, eliciting more cheers. "_I __know __what __it __takes __to __move __on_—" at this, his voice cracked again—"_I __know __how __it __feels __to __liiiiie!_"

Amy joined him again, harmonizing his high voice with a low pitch. "_All __I __wanna __do __is __trade __this __life __for __something __new, __holding __on__to __what __I __haven__'__t__—__gooooooot_!" they exclaimed, collapsing into each other in a fit of giggles.

"I take it back! I take it back!" Chester howled while Amy pounded relentlessly ahead with the second verse, leaning on Gerard for support.

"How am I supposed to do this next part?" Gerard yelled while Amy rapped "_And __I __don__'__t __even __know __what __kind __of __things __I __said, __my __mouth __kept __moving __and __my __mind __went __dead._"

"Just try it!" she gasped out in the miniscule period between lines and picked up with "_So __I__'__m __picking __up __the __pieces __now __where __to __begin, __the __hardest __part __of __ending __is __starting __again_!"

_Please __don__'__t __let __me __sound __like __an __idiot__…__please,_Gerard begged silently. He took a deep breath, almost not able to believe what he was about to attempt-in front of Amy no less- before picking up his microphone again and grunting "_oh, __oh-oh, __oh, __oh, __oh-oh-oh-oh_" on beat with the synthesized track blasting through the room.

You almost had to scrape the jaws of the girls in the room (and some of the boys) off of the floor. Gerard didn't realize it, but the sounds coming out of his mouth were incredibly close to those he made during Destroya—just louder and more musical.

"I think I just came," Lacey whispered to Chester as the famous singer continued to make those, er—noises. Amy, meanwhile, wasn't able to make a single sound until Gerard tapped her arm, reminding her that she, too, was supposed to be performing.

Gerard completed the song on a sustained note, holding the word "got" for a few seconds before finishing. He panted dramatically and smirked at Amy, who still wasn't quite over his performance during the bridge. She managed to summon up an equally brilliant grin in response.

"Bad enough, Chaz?" the black-haired man teased, turning to Chester.

"I dunno," he answered. "Why don't you ask _Amy?_"

Everyone laughed happily, and Amy leaned against Gerard, smiling up at him. "You did really well," she said. "Better than you were supposed to, but regardless."

"Well—" but he was cut off by a yell from Mike.

"I seek revenge for the murder of one of my favorite songs!" the emcee announced, standing up and tugging Frank with him. "Frankie, help me?"

"Oh, God…" Frank moaned, but all the same, grabbed Gerard's microphone.

"How long is this going to go on for?" Hayley murmured to Mikey, who she had somehow ended up next to.

"I honestly have no idea, but I'd think you better get comfortable," the bassist responded, and before he knew it, the pop-punk princess's head was resting on his shoulder.

"Good idea," she whispered, "we're in for a long night."

**So there you have it-six bands, five couples, twenty-five days, one gig (that I really, _really, REALLY _wish actually existed.) There will be five more updates on the 5th (I turn 15! ^_^) 10th, 15th, 20th and of course 25th. Each will involve one inter-band couple (and if you squint really hard, you can probably find all five in this chapter xD) Stay tuned, and happy December!**


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1: HAYLEY WILLIAMS x MIKEY WAY**

**What a terrible author I am DX **

**I'm so sorry this is late, guys. I knew it was gonna be, but...school, birthday, etc., just made it a couple days after expected... At least it's here now ^.^**

**Hope you enjoy the idea-crossover band couples are something you don't find too much of these days, and I think these two might be compatible if it wasn't for Alicia and Chad (and I love both of them dearly, so no offense to them 3 This is just fiction, guys!)**

Six a.m. was a completely unreasonable time for any human being to be awake, Hayley decided.

Why had she woken up at six a.m., anyway? She was tired as fuck, and there hadn't been anything to wake her up at the hotel. The reason as to her early rise still perplexed her.

But once awake, there was no way Hayley could fall back asleep. There was nothing to do in the hotel—Taylor and Jeremy were still deep in their slumber, as any _normal _person would be—and she sure as hell couldn't go out. This particular part of California was always swarming with paparazzi ravenous for any stories they could get. She wasn't in the mood to spend hours running from picture-hungry reporters on this particular rainy morning.

So with nowhere else to go, Hayley had bundled up and taken a taxi to the arena where later that night, the Jingle Ball would be held, praying to God that the cabbie wouldn't recognize the voice that had gotten her famous.

The young redhead stared out the window morosely into the sheeting rain. It didn't look anything like December should, much less only three days before Christmas. It probably never got cold enough out here for snow—which was a shame. Rain was wet and cold and looked depressing as it fell. Snow, in contrast, was dry and fluffy and beautiful and didn't get her wet.

"That'll be eleven-eighty, miss," the cab driver said gruffly, breaking Hayley out of her thoughts. She dug out her wallet quickly, shelling out a twenty-dollar bill and muttering "Keep the change."

The driver's eyes lit up at the bill. "Gee, thanks, miss!"

"No problem," Hayley mumbled as she scooted out of the backseat quickly, bracing herself for the hard impact of the rain.

"Merry Christmas!" he called as she slammed the door closed behind her.

Hayley dashed through the pouring rain towards the metal door to the side entrance of the arena, muttering "Shit shit shit" with every footfall. She was sure her makeup had already run all the way down her face and her vivid orange hair was a wet, straggly mess. In general, she probably looked similar to a wet rat right now.

She paused at the door, cursing its lack of an overhang for shalter, while hurriedly punching in a code on the keypad next to the handle.

"Hayley Williams, Jingle Ball," she clearly stated into the intercom, and a moment later, the door clicked open.

Hayley tumbled into the brightly lit yellow hallway, which seemed exceedingly cozy and warm at that moment. The soles of her Chuck Taylors squeaked loudly as she hurried, head down, toward the dressing room. She concentrated on watching her own feet move. If she couldn't see the other people that might pass her by, then maybe they'd leave her alone, too.

The girl pressed an earbud into one ear and clicked play, letting a guitar riff pound into her skull. She realized that her iPod had been left on her Christmas playlist. This made her smile. When all else failed, Christmas music always cheered her up.

With a new spring in her step, Hayley quickened her pace, humming the tune under her breath. Her eyes were still affixed to the floor, but at least some of her usual good mood was beginning to return.

Even years after it happened, Hayley could never decide whether the events of the next five minutes were just good luck or fate. It seemed like too great of a coincidence to her that the both of them would be in that exact same hallway at that exact same time and that they met in the way that they did—but then again, maybe it really _was_ fate telling them that it approved.

Either way, Hayley was too lost in her music and the fascinating sight of her red Chucks gliding over the mustard-yellow tile to notice the other, equally preoccupied person moving in the opposite direction from her until they collided in a burst of papers and flailing limbs.

"Shit!" a male voice exclaimed, and there were dual thumps as he and Hayley hit the floor simultaneously. She became aware of the unpleasant sensation of burning liquid dripping down the front of her shirt.

"Ouch!" Hayley yelped as she realized her entire front had been doused in steaming coffee.

Beside her, the man looked up from where he was kneeling on all fours, frantically gathering the papers strewn around the hallway into a pile. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, taking in her appearance. "Fuck! I'm so sorry, Hayley!"

"No big," she answered, gingerly plucking the shirt away from her body with two fingers. But she could almost feel the burns beginning to form on her chest and stomach.

"No—shit—it is," Mikey answered. "God, that must hurt like a mother—we've got to get you something else to wear before the burns get worse. Shit…"

"My stage wardrobe's in the dressing room," she reassured him, handing him a sheaf of coffee-splashed, dog-eared papers that had ended up next to her. "I can get something from there."

The pair straightened up at the same time. Hayley was conscious of Mikey's concerned eyes on her, and she met his gaze awkwardly, neither of them wanting to break the connection. His irises were such a beautiful, warm brown shade of chocolate, she noticed. She could look into them forever.

They both looked away, suddenly shy, and the connection was broken. Mikey pushed past Hayley in the general direction of his dressing room (the opposite of the way he had been headed at first, she noticed.) "I'm sorry for ruining your morning," he called out. "I should've looked where I was going."

"No, I'm sorry for ruining _yours,_" she shouted after him. Mikey heard light footsteps behind him and realized that Hayley was running after him. He slowed his pace to allow her to catch up.

Hayley sighed. "Look, can I make it up to you? Get you another coffee or something?"

Mikey ignored her question, shuffling through the pile of papers he was holding. He had shoved them haphazardly into a black journal with a single word, _Songs, _written on the cover in white-out. The pages were now splattered with the same brown liquid that was dripping down Hayley's shirt.

The bassist was emitting a low, constant string of curse words as he flicked through the papers rapidly. Hayley watched one of the sheets flutter to the ground. He either didn't notice or didn't care.

The girl paused, bending down to pick it up. The single piece of paper was messy, crunched up and still damp with drops of coffee. The words themselves were scribbled and crossed out, small doodles drawn in the margins and around the words. At the top of the page was Grandma (crossed out) and then _Helena…So Long and Goodnight _double underlined and circled in red pen.

Mikey was trailing more papers as he walked down the hallway. She recognized the titles as she collected them: _Guys Like Us in Prison _(with _You know what they do _added in a different colored pen above it), _Detonation—Na Na Na, I Am Not Afraid _scratched out in a hash mark design with _Famous Last Words _scrawled next to it. _These must be the original copies of the songs, _Hayley marveled. _I'm holding pieces of rock history._

"Mikey!" She called out, waving the papers as she chased him. "You dropped these…"

The man whirled around quickly. His eyes landed on the grubby papers clutched in Hayley's fist and he made a snatch for them. "Give me those!"

"Manners much?" Hayley rolled her eyes as she reluctantly handed them over. "You could at least thank me!"

"Did you read them?" he demanded, ignoring her previous remark.

"Just the titles," she answered.

Mikey frowned and turned away again, slamming the black journal shut and storming off down the hallway. "What a great fucking morning," he muttered, the words barely reaching Hayley's ears.

"Mikey!" she yelled again insistently. "Seriously, dude, chill! Are you always this angry?"

"None of your business," he replied angrily, not bothering to turn around.

"Cause you could blow a vein or something—stress really isn't good for you," she continued. She wasn't sure why she was pushing like this—the bassist was obviously pissed and annoyed with her—but there was something about his demeanor that made her wonder if she couldn't cheer him up at least a bit.

"I'll be fine!" he shouted.

"Would another coffee help?"

The man groaned exhaustedly and turned around to face the redhead. "If I let you get me another one, will you _leave me the fuck alone?_"

"If that's what you want," she shrugged.

He regarded her, obviously trying to decide which would be the lesser of two evils—having her pestering him all morning, or giving into her wishes and voluntarily spending time with her.

"You'd better change your shirt first," he finally said. "I'll walk you."

Against her will, a large smile spread across the famous singer's face. "Awesome," she exclaimed.

"You're still fucking annoying," he warned her.

"I know I am," she grinned.

The pair resumed their walk to the dressing rooms again, this time with Hayley walking next to Mikey instead of running behind him. She was thankfully quiet—abnormally quiet, the bassist thought. Wasn't she famous for never being able to shut up?

Well, he sure as fuck wasn't going to apologize. This girl had stormed in and ruined his morning before it had barely even begun. Alright, technically it had been his fault that they had crashed into each other, and it was his fault that the singer was uncomfortably soaked in burning coffee right now. But still, that didn't justify her pesky presence screwing with his carefully planned-out day.

"I'll only be a second," she told him once they reached the room with _Paramore_ splayed across the star on the door. The excitable young musician disappeared behind the wooden door and Mikey was left alone with his thoughts.

Why had he agreed to this, anyway?

Meanwhile, inside the dressing room, Hayley was staring at the rack of stage clothes, wearing a thoughtful expression. Her pose was one of a person submerged deep in a difficult decision: one hand on her hip, the other resting lightly on her chin with her brow furrowed.

What to wear? All of her clothes were colorful and loud, things that would definitely get her recognized as Hayley Williams at any regular coffee shop. The only things she had brought that _weren't _her famous signature stage clothes were the green hoodie and red skinny jeans she had picked out for the holiday they were going to be celebrating only three days later.

It would have to do. Hayley reemerged into the hallway decked out in her festive outfit, catching Mikey's gaze immediately.

"Isn't someone Christmassy today?" he smirked, throwing a long glance over her getup.

"It's all I had left," she retorted, "so shut it unless you want me naked."

To her utter shock, Mikey smirked. "Is that a challenge?" he asked quietly, his words just a bit more seductive than normal.

Hayley gulped. "N-no, it's not!" she exclaimed.

"That's what I thought," he responded and began to walk ahead, Hayley once again trailing to catch up with him. Angrily, she pushed an ear bud back into her right ear and jogged after the older bassist.

"Would you stop running off?" she huffed once she caught up. "I've got much shorter legs than you, you know!"

Once again, he refused to answer her question, instead countering with one of his own—Hayley sensed this was a habit with him. "What are you listening to?" He reached for the other ear bud, catching hold of it before she could manage to snatch it from his grip. She watched, half anxious and half uncaring, as he inserted it into his own ear and paused, taking a moment to recognize the tune.

"The original is much better," he said finally.

She breathed out heavily. "I know it is, I've got the Vandals' version on here too," she answered.

"Really? You seem like a No Doubt kind of girl—no offense," he added when he saw the start of a frown form on her face.

"I am," Hayley said. "Why, do you have a problem with them?"

"Not at all," Mikey protested, holding up his hands defensively. "The Vandals are just better."

The pair rounded the corner of the hallway just as the song changed, and Hayley stumbled a bit closer to Mikey so that her ear bud wouldn't fall out. She was hyperaware of their forearms touching from elbow to wrist, only an inch away from holding hands.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but Mikey held up a finger, signaling her to be quiet for a moment more. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he listened to the song blaring from the ear buds.

"What's this?" he asked.

"_Baby Please Come Home_ by Anberlin," Hayley replied. "And don't you dare insult it, I love this song."

"I wasn't planning on it," he said, surprised. He turned to her for a reaction, but the young musician's eyes were closed as she listened to the song. She hummed the tune lightly under her breath. The way the fluorescent lights caught the reddest strands of her hair and fell on her high, perfect cheekbones made him catch his breath. _Jesus, she's gorgeous! Why didn't I notice this? _

"What are you staring at?" she asked, and he was suddenly aware of her hazel-flecked eyes focused on his own brown ones.

"Er—um…you've got something on your cheek!" he blurted out, reaching over and brushing her pale face lightly with his thumb. _Shit, bad idea, Mikey. _Her skin was warm and smooth, and he didn't want to remove his hand. But she was staring at him oddly and he dropped it.

"We're almost at the coffee place," she told him, leading the pair down another hallway.

"There's a coffee place in here?" he asked, surprised. "I had no idea! How did you find it?"

"When I was coming in yesterday, I took a wrong turn with the guys before Sierra found me, and bam," she giggled. "It looked pretty deserted, and well, this is backstage at a rock arena…hopefully we won't get bothered too much?"

"I dunno, that mane of yours is pretty fucking distinctive," he teased, lifting a lock of said dyed-orange hair from her shoulder.

"Hey, hey, the hair's my trademark—you can't blame me!" she argued back. "You're not insulting the hair!"

"No, I wasn't—just saying that it's not exactly nondescript…"

"Your point being?"

Mikey pulled the hood of her green sweatshirt up over the orange mass while Hayley giggled and jokingly tried to slap his hands away. "Better," he grinned.

"Thanks a lot," she groaned mockingly. "There go the hours I spent getting it perfect this morning…"

"I think it already died from that coffee shower it got earlier," he chuckled. "And you look fine, don't worry."

"Fine? That's all?" she pouted.

"Well, what else do you expect me to say?"

Hayley rolled her eyes. "Oh, I don't know…gorgeous, ravishing, heavenly? Get a bit more creative with your compliments…"

"How about average?"

The redhead punched his arm and stormed ahead jokingly, forcing him to follow her for once. He mourned the lack of the ear bud that she had pulled with her—another song just started and he recognized it as _Yule Shoot Your Eye Out_ by Fall Out Boy, possibly his favorite holiday song ever.

"We're here!" she called out from ahead, and Mikey turned one last corner to be met with Hayley waiting for him in front of a small, cozy-looking storefront. The red and brown sign above the door featured the words _McGregor's Coffee Shop _in curly font.

"Ah, that smells good," he sighed, smiling. The bassist had always been a sucker for caffeine, especially in coffee, and he didn't know the last day he'd gone without having at least one cup.

On impulse, Mikey dived for the door handle before Hayley could lay a hand on it, pulling it open and gesturing for her to enter first. "Does this mean you've finally found your manners?" she joked, smiling up at him.

"Don't push it," he answered.

She laughed, a high pure sound that resonated in his ears. "Thank you, anyway!"

The pair breezed into the tiny shop, Hayley anxiously tucking her distinctive red hair into the hood to avoid recognition, and headed straight to the counter in front of the barista. The singer perched on a red vinyl stool carefully, smiling up at Mikey. "You gonna sit down or what?"

"I was hoping you weren't going to make me go through with it," he groaned, reaching for the ear bud once again.

"What's that for?" she questioned.

"It might make the suffering a little less painful…"

"I'm not that bad," Hayley grinned, signaling at the waitress. "Two cappuccinos," she requested sweetly.

Mikey groaned and leaned back. "One cup. One. Then I'm out of here," he warned.

"Whatever you say," she agreed.

But one cup led into two, and two into three and three into four. Something about the young, famous redhead captivated Mikey in an odd way he hadn't felt in a long, long time. She was loud and impulsive, yes, but she was also funny and could even be sweet and sensitive. Plus her Christmas playlist rocked.

"Ooh, this one has to go on the list!" she exclaimed, scribbling _Christmas Brings Me Down—Sparks the Rescue _onto the red napkin that the pair had been busy compiling their ultimate list of holiday songs on.

"Add _Alone This Holiday _by The Used," Mikey suggested. "That one's pretty amazing."

"True," she mumbled, chewing on the pen cap. "On it goes. And _Ex-Miss _by New Found Glory, that's an instant classic."

"You're just saying that 'cause you're dating the guitarist," he teased. But to his shock, rather than blushing and agreeing as he'd assumed she would, a tense, angry expression grew across Hayley's face.

"Don't mention Chad," she bit out, clenching her teeth. "Just—don't."

"Er…okay," he agreed. But the damage had been done. He was curious about what had happened between the young singer and her older boyfriend—last he had heard, the pair was a match made in musician heaven. Whatever had occurred between now and then must have been major to get this reaction.

He was aware that Hayley still looked morose, staring into her fifth cappuccino and dragging her spoon around the murky brown liquid sluggishly. Quickly, he scrambled for something to say that would make her happy again—she didn't look right without a perky smile on her face.

"How are you so energetic on stage?" he blurted out, immediately cursing his words. _What kind of question was that? _

But thankfully, she smiled again and looked back up at him. "Well, the ADHD helps," she said.

"You've got ADHD?" he gawked.

She nodded seriously. "But mostly, it's just that I'm a naturally impulsive person. It's all about doing what feels right at the moment."

"Uh-huh," he agreed confusedly.

"Like you, for instance, you never move when playing. Ever. Just the one spot, right?" At his questioning glance, she rolled her eyes. "I've obviously seen live videos of you guys; you _are _one of the century's biggest rock bands…"

Truthfully, he'd seen videos of her too, hence why he'd asked the question about her high energy levels, but he was surprised to know that she'd focused in on him specifically. Most videos concentrated heavily on Gerard and Frank with Ray during his solos, but Mikey was always the first person to admit that he wasn't very interesting live at all. As Hayley had said, he tended to pick a place and stay rooted to the spot. Not many concert videos liked to focus on that.

"You're like the opposite of me on stage. Don't you ever get the sudden impulse to jump, or move to one side, or kneel down during a dramatic part? Shout at the crowd? Improvise new lyrics?"

Did he? Mikey wasn't sure, but her words were at least making sense…

"Every time I get one of those feelings, I act on it. I don't care what the crowd will think. That's the key: you've got to pretend nobody's watching, or you'll chicken out. You should try it sometime," she advised. "It makes the shows a lot more fun—both for you and for everyone watching."

"Maybe I will," he answered, smiling back. "I bet it'll really"—But his words were cut off by a loud, insistent beeping from his cell phone. Annoyed, he fished around in his jeans pocket before pulling the offending item out.

"Sorry, I gotta take this," he said apologetically once catching sight of the name flashing on the screen (GERARD in blocky white letters.)

"Yeah?" Mikey answered, covering the mouthpiece with one hand.

"Dude, where are you? We've been waiting for nearly an hour!" His brother's angry voice exploded out of the small device. "We sent eight text messages! I thought you said you were gonna meet us at nine!"

"Well, what time is it now?" Mikey argued back.

"Eleven fucking thirty!"

"What?" The musician glanced at a clock on the wall. Its' hands did indeed point to it being nearly twelve o'clock. "There's no fucking way…"

"Whatever, just get your ass over here! And oh, if you see Hayley Williams, tell her that her band's been searching for her for nearly an hour now!"

The connection cut with a loud click. Hayley looked at him, wide-eyed, as if they'd been caught in a crime. Obviously he hadn't been able to cover the receiver well enough.

"We'd better get going," he said gruffly, slapping a fifty-dollar bill down on the counter. The playful mood had effectively been ruined—the pair had been brought back to reality, one in which the entire world would be questioning their new found friendship.

"Yeah, I guess," she replied sadly. The girl tilted her head back, draining the last dregs of her final coffee, and he couldn't help but admire the fine white column of her throat, the way it bobbed as she swallowed.

But no, he wouldn't allow himself to have those thoughts. He didn't want to feel that way about another girl so soon after…

Dangerous territory. Don't think about her.

"Ready?" she asked softly, thankfully breaking him out of his melancholy thoughts.

"Ready," he agreed. He offered her a tentative smile.

Mikey held the door open for Hayley again as the pair exited the shop nearly three hours after they had first entered. He found it hard to believe that he'd spent so much time with her, who was such an annoyance to him only a few hours ago, and yet he regretted passing her off as a vapid rock chick without getting to know her first. She was funny, sweet, caring, beautiful—perfect.

What were the chances of finding someone like her again?

Hayley once again offered him an ear bud as they walked quickly back towards the dressing room. A soft acoustic guitar riff was playing through the small device, sounding both romantic and Christmassy.

"What's this song called?" Mikey asked.

"_Christmas with You _by Artist versus Poet," the punk pop singer informed him. "It's my favorite Christmas love song."

And before they knew it, they stood outside her dressing room door.

Mikey knew that once she walked through the entryway, there was no going back. Their connection would be broken. Whatever they'd shared that morning would be a fluke, a one-off event. Maybe someday in the future Hayley would mention it in an interview, or they'd meet at an awards show and share an awkward laugh over the remembrance.

Mikey didn't want it to end that way. Hayley was too special.

So he turned to her, smirking. "Remember what you told me about following my instincts?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Do you think that's just important on-stage, or should I try that in real life, too?"

"Always," she replied. "It makes things so much easier. Try right now—what are your instincts telling you?"

Tentatively, Mikey reached a hand up to sweep the red hair from Hayley's face to behind one ear, his touch gentle. His other hand cupped her chin, lifting it slightly. Her face tilted up slightly and hazel eyes met chocolate brown.

"They're telling me to do this," he whispered before pressing his lips onto hers.


	3. Chapter 2

**Sooo, I'm getting back on schedule-this is only a day late, maybe the next one will actually be on time! xD**

**Hope you like this one. It's so fluffy I almost suffocated while writing DX jk, but really...it is very cute. And I think out of every couple I've ever written, this one has the highest chance of ever existing...Hayley and Sierra really are friends, Tay and Si know each other irl, and I _think _they're both single, from what I know...and they would be fucking adorable 333**

**Enjoy!**

_Are you still awake? _

Sierra stared at the words on the glowing screen, her thumb hovering over the _Send _button. She didn't want to wake Taylor up, but it wasn't like it would be the first time they'd texted in the middle of the night…

Her fingers, slick with sweat, slipped off of the silver device she clutched in her hand, and she scrambled to catch it before it fell to the floor. In the struggle, her thumb accidentally tapped the small green button.

_Sending SMS _

"Shit," she muttered, tapping random buttons frantically in an attempt to rescind the message. But the damage was done—

_Message sent._

"Sorry, Taylor," she whispered into the silence of her empty hotel room.

Taylor and Sierra could be considered friends by any normal standards-they liked each other, hung out, talked, everything that normal friends did. But hanging over their heads was the fact that they were both famous rock stars, stuck in the public eye with every single movement they made. This made any normal friendship the pair might have held nearly impossible. Only their closest friends (aka band members) knew about their secret closeness-almost comparable to that of a sister and a brother.

Sierra's phone buzzed and she reached for the device, nearly dropping it in her haste. Clicking the power button, she glanced at the words.

_Well now I am... _

Crap. She had woke him up, hadn't she?

_Sorry, Tay, I didn't mean to send that . _

Dropping the phone back onto her nightstand, Sierra collapsed back onto the pillows, her brown hair fanning out around her head. She shivered, pulling the blankets closer around her body.

Would Taylor respond?

He knew she was an insomniac, one of the very few people she'd entrusted with the secret. He should've been expecting something like this, shouldn't he? She hoped that it hadn't disturbed him too greatly, that she hadn't made him mad...

Nah, she probably didn't. Taylor didn't get mad. It was one of the things she loved about him.

_S'okay, I'm here now. What's up? _

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, not sure how to answer the question. What's up? She was tired, she wanted to talk to him, she missed him, she thought he was a great guy...

She loved him.

_Nothing really, just can't sleep _

Can't sleep didn't even begin to cover it.

"Sierra!" Taylor grinned across the parking lot, waving his hands over his head to signal to her where he was. She smiled back, calling out "Morning!" in response.

The young guitarist rushed towards her, scooping her up in a hug while she laughed. "Someone's energetic today," she teased Taylor, patting his deep brown curls.

"I had some coffee," he shrugged.

Sierra shot an accusatory glance at Jeremy. "You let him have coffee? He's gonna be hyper all day now!"

"Hey, he needed it," the bassist called back, "You should have seen him, he was like the walking dead this morning! I have no idea what he was doing on his phone last night, but it kept both of us up..."

"Ah, dammit," she groaned, frowning at the boy as Taylor set her down. "Sorry about that, guys."

"No big, it was fun," Taylor grinned.

"Speak for yourself," Jeremy muttered.

Taylor and Sierra skipped ahead of the grouchy bassist into the side entrance of the arena together. True, they were both functioning on minimal levels of energy since they'd been texting till nearly three o'clock in the morning the previous night, but the presence of a best friend by their side always helped to raise moods in the morning.

"Ready for the big show tonight?" Taylor asked, poking her shoulder playfully.

"Am I ever!" she answered. "I'm a bit scared-we are on first, after all-but I love to play so much..."

"I know what you mean," he answered, winking.

"And the Jingle Ball, too!" the young girl's excitement was tangible in her voice.

"Biggest event in rock music every winter," the guitarist reminded her.

She sighed, her breath forming a silver cloud in the cold morning air, and rested her head on his shoulder. "And I'm glad you guys are here, too."

"Me too," he laughed, smiling at her.

That smile sent tingles down her spine, as it always did. Sierra's grin turned wistful as she looked up at Taylor's open, honest, beautiful face.

It was always the worst to fall in love with your best friend.

Taylor ran into VersaEmerge's practice room about fifteen minutes after they split at the entrance. His eyes had a frantic, worried look in them, he clutched the neck of his acoustic guitar in one hand, and he glanced around the room for a minute before his gaze landed back on the younger band members.

"Has anyone seen Hayley?" he gasped out, staring at Sierra beseechingly.

Blake jumped to his feet, leaning his acoustic guitar against the couch. "Why, where'd she go?" he exclaimed.

"She was supposed to meet us in the dressing room at nine thirty, and it's almost ten and she's not there, plus she's not answering any texts," the guitarist informed them. "Jer's off asking the other bands, but all we've got is that Mikey Way's missing too…"

Sierra didn't want to say it, but that sounded exactly like something Hayley would do. The redheaded girl was one of her closest friends, but she was impetuous, and well…forgetful. She wouldn't put it past Hayley to completely forget that they had a gig to play that night.

"She's probably with Mikey, then," Blake offered. "I dunno, Taylor, she'll probably be back soon…you know how she is…"

"True…" Taylor collapsed onto the couch, slouching down next to Sierra. "God, I'm exhausted…"

"Sorry 'bout that," Sierra mumbled quietly.

"Not your fault," he grinned. "Why would I want to sleep when I could be talking to you, anyway?"

_Why do you say things like that? They only make me fall deeper in love with you…_

"You're such a cheeseball," Sierra giggled, her cheeks turning a light shade of red.

Jeremy poked his head around the doorframe, peeking in just as Sierra leaned her head on the guitarist's shoulder, grinning happily. Taylor ran a hand through her short brown hair.

The moment was broken by the older bassist's joking remark: "Tay, no flirting until we find Hayley!"

Taylor jerked his head up to glance at him, immediately blushing. "I-I wasn't!" he exclaimed, staring at Jeremy with wide eyes.

"I'm sure you weren't," he teased. "But seriously, have you guys seen her? We kind of need to practice…"

"I wouldn't worry too much, this _is_ Hayley we're talking about," Blake added.

"But…" Jeremy gestured helplessly. "Practice…"

"We can still practice," Blake continued. "You can borrow Sierra!"

Both of the Paramore boys snorted an amused laugh at the same time, making Sierra giggle along with them. Blake frowned. "Seriously, though, it's a good idea! We can all collab while we wait…we'll be VersaMore! No, ParaEmerge!"

"Your guitarist is crazy," Taylor whispered in Sierra's ear, his hot breath tickling the shell of skin on the outside. She shivered against her will.

"I already knew that," she whispered back.

"Just making sure…"

But Jeremy apparently didn't think that Blake was crazy, or maybe they were just the same brand of insane, because he had run back to his dressing room for his bass with a promise to return for their legendary collaboration in just a minute.

"We're seriously gonna do this?" Sierra asked, bemused.

"Hey, that dude _did _say he wanted the bands to do performances together…" Blake reminded his friend as he re-tuned his guitar. "We'll just do a couple Christmassy songs or something, no big deal."

"But I haven't practiced those," the singer wailed, frowning. "I'll sound terrible!"

"You never sound terrible," Taylor winked. "Hell, you even sound good in the shower."

_He did not just say that._

The singer turned to look at her best friend slowly. "What was that, Taylor?"

"You sound good in the shower," he shrugged.

Blood rushed to Sierra's cheeks, and she struggled for words. "How—what the fuck—what do you know about—how did you—"

"Well, the walls in that hotel are pretty thin, and our rooms are next to each other," Taylor reminded her. "But Rihanna? Sierra, seriously?"

A long string of curse words began running through the young girl's head. She wasn't sure what was worse—Taylor hearing her horrendous shower singing, or Taylor thinking about her showering…

"You're such a prude, Sierra," Blake laughed, punching her leg lightly.

"Am not!" Sierra reddened and crossed her arms.

"Are too!"

"Am _not!_"

"Jesus, how do you two survive in the same band?" Jeremy had re-entered the room, his bass clutched in one hand.

"With difficulty," Blake joked.

"Maybe we should separate you, then," Jeremy laughed. "I'll take Blake, and Taylor can have Sierra."

_What was up with that look? _Sierra wondered as Blake and Jeremy shared a covert smile before exiting the room together. _And—whoa, did he just wink at Taylor? And why is Taylor blushing?_

Taylor muttered something that sounded like "perverted dickheads" under his breath before sighing and picking up his guitar, strumming a chord lazily. "What are we supposed to do now?" he asked.

"No idea," Sierra shrugged.

"Same here…"

Taylor picked out another random chord on his guitar, strumming it a few times before moving his fingers around into a different formation on the fretboard. The random notes began to take the shape of a song after a minute—one that Sierra recognized.

"Oh God, Taylor, and you think Rihanna's bad?" she groaned, giggling.

"This is a Christmas classic," the brunette boy mumbled in response, his head bent over the neck of the guitar as he found the next chord.

"Is it really?"

"Well, _I _think it is," the boy defended.

"It's certainly overplayed enough…"

"Do you think you could sing it better, then?"

"Is that a challenge?" Sierra asked, smirking.

Taylor returned the cocky grin. "Yes, it is."

"Well then, I accept."

He played one more note, then gestured to her as his fingers raced to form the next chord.

"Then do it."

_Why did I agree to do this?_

Sierra took a deep, calming breath, before singing quietly, "_I really can't stay…_"

"_But baby, it's cold outside_," Taylor harmonized.

"_I've got to go away…"_

"_But baby, it's cold outside"_

_Why doesn't Taylor sing more often? _Sierra wondered as she continued to sing. _His voice really is amazing…he should at least do backing vocals, shouldn't he?_

"_My mother will start to worry"_

"_Beautiful, what's your hurry?"_

Sierra giggled against her will at the funny voice Taylor adopted at that line, and he winked at her at the word '_beautiful,'_ making her blush.

"_So really, I'd better scurry…"_

"_Beautiful, please don't hurry…"_

The way that Taylor was singing the song made it sound like less of a horrendously overplayed Christmas song and more of something that Sierra liked, a song with actual meaning behind the words. Or maybe it was the way he looked at her every time he sang the word 'beautiful.' Either way, the young girl found herself actually enjoying the song for the first time in her life as she sang.

"_I wish I knew how to break the spell"_

"_Your eyes are like starlight now"_

_Eyes like starlight? What a cheesy line… _Still, the way that he was looking into her eyes right now made her feel as if they really were special, rather than the plain brown orbs she'd grown up seeing in the mirror every morning.

His eyes, on the other hand, were stunning. They were like never-ending pools of gorgeous greenish-brown, not quite hazel but not quite anything else, either. A mystery just like him. She found herself caught in his gaze, unable to look away.

On the line _Mind if I move in closer, _Taylor shifted a few inches closer to his best friend so that their thighs were pressed flush against each other, their faces only a foot apart. The neck of his guitar stretched across Sierra's lap and the back of his hand brushed her stomach when he changed chords.

"_I really can't stay"_

"_Baby don't hold out"_

"_Aw, but it's cold outside," _they sang together, laughing ever so slightly. Sierra couldn't help but notice how they were perfectly in tune, Taylor's voice exactly an octave below hers'. Even their vocal cords were perfectly in sync.

During the guitar solo in the middle, Taylor murmured "See, this isn't that bad now, is it?"

"Only because you're a good singer," Sierra answered quietly.

He laughed. "I beg to differ—you're the only thing that makes this song sound even halfway decent."

Sierra would have responded, but his instrumental break had ended, and he was gesturing for her to sing again. She complied, even if it was only to make him smile.

"_I simply must go"_

"_But baby, it's cold outside"_

"_The answer is no"_

"_But baby, it's cold outside…"_

In the back of her mind, Sierra wondered where the other two boys were and what they were up to. They'd said that they should be practicing for the concert, but she and Taylor certainly weren't…or at least, she thought that they weren't…

She thought she heard a deep laugh from somewhere close to her, and she looked at the brunette guitarist to check if it was him, but Taylor's eyes were closed in concentration.

"_My sister will be suspicious"_

"_Gosh, your lips look"—_Taylor's voice wavered as he sang _delicious, _and Sierra almost subconsciously noticed as his gaze dropped to her very own lips. Inadvertently, she laughed nervously, not sure what to do. She plowed ahead with the song even as she realized that she didn't want Taylor to stop looking at her mouth, in fact, she wanted him to _do _something about it.

"_I've got to get home"_

"_But baby, you'll freeze out there!"_

"_Say, lend me a coat"_

"_It's up to your knees out there"_

His stare hadn't moved from her lips the whole time. Sierra bit down on the bottom one anxiously. _Oh God, what's he going to do now?_

"_I really can't stay…"_

"_Get over that old doubt…"_

Taylor strummed the final chord, leaning in even closer to her. His gaze was back on her eyes.

"_Baby, it's cold outside," _they finally finished quietly. Sierra could feel her heartbeat pounding in her chest, racing a mile a minute. Hear Taylor's quick, short breaths as he watched her intently. She could _feel _them on her lips.

They were an inch apart. Any sudden movement on either of their sides would send them crashing into each other.

_Kiss me, _Sierra thought. _Kiss me, Taylor._

"What did you say?" Taylor whispered quietly, his face registering shock. Even still, he didn't lean back.

"N-nothing," she stuttered.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his warm, sweet breath washing over her face. "Because it sounded a whole lot like _'Kiss me, Taylor.'_"

"I didn't…" she murmured. But she knew—she had heard herself only moment before.

"Tay—"

But her words were cut off as he closed the fractional distance between them, lowering his lips onto hers softly. His guitar dropped into both their laps as his hands lifted to cradle her face gently between them. Their eyes slid shut at the exact same time.

_It was finally happening._

Taylor's lips were warm and soft, gentle against Sierra's. He made sure to keep it innocent and pure, to leave all of the lust out of it, leaving only the shy love he held for his best friend behind. It was everything she'd dreamed of and more.

With a small, cute gasp, the guitarist pulled his mouth away from the singer's, still holding her face gently between his palms. He smiled sweetly at Sierra.

"Like that?'

"Exactly like that," she murmured.

And then the silence was broken by cheers and applause from the general direction of the doorway. Sierra peered past the boy she was in love with to see Jeremy, Blake, and even Hayley and Mikey clapping and grinning at the pair like proud parents.

"_Finally!_" Hayley exclaimed, rushing towards the two and scooping them both into a big hug. "Took you two long enough!"

"What do you mean?" Sierra asked, confused.

The redhead rolled her eyes jokingly. "Oh, please—it was so obvious to all of us that you two have been in love since, like, forever!"

"Was it really that obvious?" Taylor asked, blushing. Sierra could only gawk at her friend.

"Oh, completely," Jeremy yelled from the doorway. "We all knew it was only a matter of time."

"I had no idea," Sierra breathed, turning back to Taylor. "How long…"

"Ever since I first met you," he confessed.

"Same here."

"And yet we never told each other," he marveled, shaking his head. "Wow, I wish I had known…think of all the time we've missed!"

"No, don't think about that," Sierra whispered. "Think about all the time we've got together _now._"

"That sounds absolutely perfect," he grinned.


End file.
